


Blood...It's Everything

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, College, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 02:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey gets turned into a vampire. Surprisingly little changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood...It's Everything

Being turned is the best fucking thing to happen to Mikey his senior year of high school. To hell with his acceptance to Rutgers, or having a threesome with Caty Sampson and Steve Veronica. Vampires are fucking awesome.

 _Gerard is going to be jealous as shit_ is Mikey’s first thought when the guy pulls back from kissing him and flashes his fangs. In hindsight, maybe it should have been _oh, shit_. But to be fair, the guy had just blown him, and Mikey’s hand is still on the guy’s dick trying to return the favour. He’s pretty stoned, there are about eighty people he vaguely knows at the park. Someone had promised a house party and when the parents had come home early half the party had just relocated as a large group to the nearest space big enough to hold all of them. It’s the middle of April so it’s pretty cold, but Mikey doesn’t feel the freezing dead grass biting through his jacket, not with a hot guy sprawled on top of him.

It’s oddly anti-climatic when the guy clamps his mouth down on his neck. It’s not the terrible agony that some of the shows and books make it out to be, nor does it make him hard again. It’s just some inexperienced person he’s met and decided to hook up with trying too hard to make a hickey. Mikey starts to get lightheaded, but even that’s nothing really. He and the guy smoked an entire joint together before the guy propositioned him, and there were beers at the party. The guy pushes a finger into his mouth, and Mikey’s tongue automatically curls around it, like he’s slicking it up because they don’t have lube, even though Mikey’s got a travel sized one in his pocket. The finger tastes like pennies, and Mikey’s not sure if it’s the guy’s blood or his own. It seems pretty kinky if the guy is into making his hook-ups taste their own blood.

When he wakes up things are surprisingly the same. He’s fucking hungry as hell, but it’s not like he thirsts for blood, he’s just aware from a decade of watching horror movies that that’s what lunch is gonna be from now on. His face isn’t all fucked up like Buffy vampires, and even when he concentrates so hard he’s squinting he can’t make himself turn into fog or a bat or rat.

The major difference is he’s got an inner clock. He never used to know what time it was. Hell, it never really used to matter. His personal time zone was divided by periods in school, by the latest time he could get up in the morning and still be on time, by his shifts at Borders, which was even more divided by mandatory breaks, by what was on tv. Now there’s a count down in his head, telling him he’s got twenty one minutes until the sun is up.

Mikey’s not entirely sure what will happen once the sun is up. He gets that he’s a vampire and that it’s his nemesis in some way. Unless Stephanie Meyer was right and he’s just going to glitter. But Trueblood says he’s going to turn into a walking ball of charcoal, Buffy says he’s going to start smoking before bursting into flame, and the Runaways comics says he’s going to explode. He’s pretty sure he’s in the same park that he was partying in before, and making it home in nineteen minutes is unlikely, unless there are no red lights. He’s not really willing to burst into flame to test his speed-driving skills, so he pulls a Bill Compton.

It doesn’t take Mikey very long to dig a hole in the grass. He’s not sure if it’s super speed, he’ll have to get outside data about that, but he’s got ten minutes to spare when he jumps in the hole and starts pulling the soil down on top of him. The moment his brain-clock ticks to zero every hair on his body pushes at the dirt to stand on end. It’s difficult to shiver when he’s entirely compacted with soil, but he somehow manages. And then his brain-clock starts counting again, and he can only figure it’s counting to sundown.

He spends the next thirteen hours and twelve minutes awake. He keeps waiting to fall asleep, and his body just won’t do it. It’s like breathing, his system has decided it’s too snobby to participate in an event it doesn’t have to. Ten hours in he understands Drusilla a lot better. If this shit is going to happen every day for the rest of his unlife, he’s going to need to make sure he’s got his ipod fully charged.

It’s instinct when he unburies himself -he doesn’t need his cellphone to know it’s 7:34- to head towards home. It’s not until he’s on his front step that Mikey realises that Buffy and Trueblood were officially right about one thing. He can’t let himself inside.

It’s the first time his new state really hits him. Sure he spent the last thirteen hours underground, but it’s easy to close your eyes and forget you’re not breathing. Mikey has laid on his bed stoned and daydreaming dozens of times. It’s worse than it probably would have been had his first realisation been gnawing into someone’s neck. That would have just been ‘oh shit, my appetite sure has changed’. This is different, this is _home_. He can’t think of a reason to ask mom or dad to let him inside, the door won’t be locked in the middle of the evening. And if he can’t ask then he can’t enter his own home.

So, he’s dead. And his old life is dead. He’s got to figure out something else. Mikey was never the type to contempt suicide when he was alive, he’s not going to stake himself now that he’s dead. First on the list of priorities is someone to eat. It would be nice to know if eating is going to kill someone, or if he’ll be able to stop himself, but it’s not really necessary knowledge. It’s either vampire lack of emotion, or teenage nihilism, but Mikey finds he doesn’t really care about killing someone.

His parents would be an easy first meal. All he needs to do is wait until his dad takes out the garbage and pounce. His mom would come out eventually, concerned about her husband, he could drain her too. Neither would question seeing his face until it was right in their neck. But he won’t. They cared for him for seventeen years, it seems tacky to eat them. He’s already never going to return the nurturing favour by not sticking them in a nursing home; his final gift to them can be not murdering them.

Mikey’s about a week into the vampire gig when he realises he needs something else. It was easy to find a place to stay, by some insane luck apartments are public enough that he can walk in. After that he just followed a tenant and pretended he was going to rape her unless she did everything he said and demanded she invite him in. It’s a pretty sweet apartment, aside from how lame the windows look covered with science project sheets of cardboard. Food is easy too, like the famous quote of Spike’s they’re really just all walking Happy Meals. Money won’t be a concern either, he can just lift the wallet of his meals.

What he needs is someone to chill with. It’s not like Buffy, there’s no real sire/childe thing. Or at least Mikey’s hasn’t shown up yet. Granted they work on different clocks being immortal and all, but Mikey is not fucking spending eternity in Belleville waiting. He’s considered turning Elena. She would be a bitching vampire. But she’d also slow him down - she’s much older than him, and from what he can tell his natural abilities haven’t distorted huge amounts, meaning that she’ll still be frail as a vampire. An eternity of catching her meals seems lame. Maybe later. There’s someone else.

He knocks on the door, worried he’s not going to be able to enter. Technically the room belongs to the university, but he is paying for it. Mikey’s not sure where the supernatural deterrent stops. Gerard solves the problem by muttering “come in, you fucking idiot” when he sees it’s him.

Gerard starts ranting the moment the door is closed, where the fuck has he been and mom and dad are worried sick and I don’t care if high school sucks, if you don’t graduate you’re fucked and you’ve only got two months left anyway, and Mikey can tell he’s never going to shut up so he does the simple thing. He kisses him.

Or, at least he tries. He doesn’t have his tongue in Gerard’s mouth for more than a second before Gerard’s backing away. “What the _fuck_?”

Mikey is struck with an urge to break his neck. It’s not anything evil and vampiric; he used to get the same feeling when Gerard took the last sip of coffee from his mug and he had to make a new one to finish getting his fix. The difference is now Mikey’s actually capable of breaking someone’s neck. It’s not like he does it often, but that one girl kept squirming and he’d just tried a bit too hard to hold her in place.

“You say no now, you just wait.”

Gerard’s arms go from being crossed to being thrown into the air as he retorts with “Yeah, because in twenty minutes _incest_ will be totally cool.”

Mikey mutters “I hope so,” before surging forward and sinking his teeth into his brother.

Unlike his asshole maker, Mikey plans on waiting however long it takes for Gerard to be reborn. He spends the first bit of time looking at Gerard’s room. He was there when Gerard packed up all his important belongings and took them to SVA. But it’s different to see them all in place, to see everything he’s bought while living here. The composition of clutter makes Mikey think about all the stories he hasn’t heard in email or on the phone, and is greedily happy that they’ll never not be around each other again.

When he’s done analysing the stack of burned dvds on top of the tv, done flipping through Gerard’s homework, half full of definitions and phrases he’s never heard of, Mikey settles on Gerard’s bed and thinks about all the things they’ll do in the future. They have forever. Gerard can write a hundred different comics under a hundred different names, each one more popular with the losers and freaks than the last. Mikey can join bands, play gigs in places where they’ll throw bottles at him and never worry about actually getting hurt.

It’s a long way into these musings when it occurs to him that Gerard might not want to spend his time drawing. People change when they live again, all the shows and books and comics say so. He did. He’s not The First or anything, every evil thought and act in the universe. But there’s no shyness, no anxiety. Maybe Gerard will shun his artsy side for stronger passions. Mikey’d like to think if Gee comes back wrong he’ll stake him. But he won’t. There’s no sense in even pretending to think about it, self-delusion isn’t something he’s into. He fucking loved him, and not matter what he turns into he’ll still love him.

Upon waking, Gerard’s first words are “Seriously, you couldn’t just tell me? You had to bite me?”

Mikey snorts. He can still do that, even though he doesn’t need the air in his lungs. He knows his brother too well for that shit. “Like you wouldn’t have asked me to turn you the second I told you anyway.”

“Point. I’m not going to drop out of SVA. I’ll wear hoodies or something.” Mikey’s not sure that will work, he’s pretty sure Spike still smoldered under his trench. But the fact that Gerard still wants to take his classes means he hasn’t internalised his evil either, and Mikey’s not going to kill that hope. He stays silent.

For about thirty seconds. And then he grins, letting his teeth drop down. “You still morally against a kiss?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have morals any longer,” Gerard muses. Mikey’s always been his little brother, so he knows that this is the sort of conversation that could wander around for hours, that they’ll be arguing about the value of morals as they pertain to supernatural beings for the next century. And its not like Mikey doesn’t want to talk about it, he does. He just wants Gerard’s body more than he wants his brain.

So he surges forward, a repeat of entering the room. This time when he gets his mouth close enough to press his tongue against Gerard’s his teeth are placed so that there’s no choice but to sink them into Gerard’s lip. Gee groans and thrusts forward unconsciously, cock against Mikey’s thigh. Mikey’s not sure how the no blood circulation thing works with the erection thing, it’s not something that’s often discussed on vampire based television. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, as long as it works.

“I’m going to fuck you. And then you’re going to fuck me. And we just won’t stop until we’re hungry enough that we need to go out for a bite,” Mikey whispers against Gerard’s mouth. He can’t help but lick the oozing holes removing his teeth to talk left. Gerard tastes fucking heavenly. It’s not much of a limb to crawl out on to say his come is going to taste just as good.

Mikey’s fucked a lot, been fucked a lot, done sucking and hands and dry humping and thrusting between thighs. After Gerard went to SVA he sort of started having sex and didn’t stop. He never thought anything about it, but his enlightened brain can’t help but wonder if there was some sort of subtextual longing. What the hell ever, fuck his human self and possibly unfulfilled needs. He’s a fucking creature of the night now, and he can have whatever the fuck he wants. He strips Gerard quickly - wants to rip off his clothes but it’s one of Gerard’s favourite shirts - and shoves him over to the bed. Mikey takes everything off at a slower pace. He wants to see Gerard wanting him.

He crawls on top of Gerard and bites a hole into his arm before stretching down to jerk Gerard off. As he does the blood starts dripping down his arm. To Mikey it just smells like any old blood, in fact, it smells sort of crusty and boring, if blood had a personality. But Gerard whimpers and Mikey grins from above him. It makes sense for his blood to be as intoxicating to Gerard as Gerard’s is to his - they belong to each other.

It gets harder to stroke Gerard as the blood starts drying. And while Mikey is totally fine with having semi-painful sex many many times in the future, it’s fucking annoying to have reality barge in at this moment. He raises his arm and bites his wrist harder, makes himself pull his arm sideways so he tears a chunk of flesh. It’ll heal, everything heals, but it’ll take long enough that he’ll still be dripping when Gerard comes.

Gerard bites through his own lip when he orgasms. The spurt of blood is fucking beautiful. Mikey drops down so every inch of skin he has is pressed against Gerard and licks at the gushing wound. It’s like the best alcohol and the best weed and the best XTC he’s ever had in liquid form. He can’t stop himself from grinding down on Gerard, when his brother gasps he takes the opportunity to lick the remnants of blood off Gerard’s fangs. They’re razor sharp, and Gee seems to appreciate when he shoves his cut tongue into Gerard’s mouth.

Mikey screams when he comes. When he was alive he was never a screamer, but everything else is different now, why not that? Quicker than he can ask what Mikey’s doing he squirms to the edge of the bed and starts tasting Gerard. His come and Gee’s are mixed together, his blood woven between them. Mikey licks Gerard clean. His blood tastes the same as it smells, boring and vaguely gross, like the vampire equivalent of broccoli, but the come more than makes up for it.

He rests his head on Gerard’s thigh and takes a moment to store what just happened in his memory. Even if he lives to be a thousand years old, he’ll only ever have one first time with Gee.

The moment is broken when Gerard asks “So, what’s the refractory time on vampires?”

Well, not so much broken, as continued.


End file.
